


Hunger

by Phileas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, metaphorical cannibalism, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phileas/pseuds/Phileas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It burns like napalm fire, it explodes, it devours my bowels. I flee. I also flee the softness of your lips, the moisture from your mouth. This is an ogress mouth. I flee your mastication, I'm afraid of being devoured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Being French, I cannot help but make mistakes. Please, point them out to me if any.

 

It was terrible, every time, your lips on mine. I do not know if you remember, it's been a long time.

It was terrible for it was you, for it was too short. Shame and doubt. It is a blurry memory, I do not know if I love or I hate it. I remember very well, but the impression left, the feeling is mixed. It burns like napalm fire, it explodes, it devours my bowels. I flee. I also flee the softness of your lips, the moisture from your mouth. This is an ogress mouth. I flee your mastication, I'm afraid of being devoured. Tempting and bloody, I do not dare look at it. It's been a long time. I'd like to leave, discreet Ophelia, with flowers and water lilies, and forget about it.

I gut multicoloured crocodiles, methodically, with terrible and precise bites. Half of the bag is already dead, panic among the reptiles, their sugared cries rise to my ears and I rejoice, master of the destiny of those sweet creatures. The table trembles, tentative of escape. I catch the fugitives and sacrifice them to my ravenous stomach.  
It took me by surprise, living Russian doll. I, who was devouring, was devoured. I can not look death in the face, digestion, I close my eyes. A kiss again. Hungry as ever, they require their flesh toll, your lips! And once satiated, by indulgence, for dessert, they taste my cheeks before they left.

I could not say that it has been a long time anymore. You were there before me, with your lips sated but ready to start again, gorging to the dregs of the feast that were my lips. I was gnawed to the bone, swallowed. I passed on the tongue, I slide in the throat. I felt my intestines on a roller coaster, effect of the digestion. It was the end for sure. My macerated brain had, at last, imbibed, and I had the solution.

I became the Ogre, I became famished.  
I relished the salt of your skin, the warmth of your belly, the bitter of your fluids. I tasted your blood and your sperm, my blood and my sperm. More you and more me than I had ever been. I absorbed you entirely, and found myself again. We were one, carnivorous and emaciated wolves, devouring each other.

The morning shone over the bed, the altar of our sacrifice.  
I was new and born again. I rose and felt it. Like it would never stop. I was hungry, and you were offered.  
I was God, I was delivered the lamb, and made it a mouthful.

 

 

Faim.

**Author's Note:**

> Faim means hunger, in French. (It's a trying-to-be-clever play on word with fin... Hahaha.)


End file.
